


Where the Blue of the Sea Meets the Sky - Pt. 3

by HarpiaHarpyja



Series: Tumblr Reylo Flash Fiction [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Domestic, Dreams, Explorer Rey, F/M, First Time, Flash Fiction, Islands, Mild Smut, Morning After, One Night Stands, POV Rey, Reylo - Freeform, Selkie Ben Solo, Selkies, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 10:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15928883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarpiaHarpyja/pseuds/HarpiaHarpyja
Summary: Caving to impulse and curious about the peculiar kinship she feels with him, Rey invites Ben to spend the night. Their encounter leads to new, unexpected dreams and a persistent feeling that this is only just the start of . . . something.





	Where the Blue of the Sea Meets the Sky - Pt. 3

**Author's Note:**

> Part 3 of a series originally posted as installments on Tumblr, [here](https://thisgarbagepicker.tumblr.com/post/177317083295/thisgarbagepicker-reylo-week-2018-day-4). 
> 
> Parts [One](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15798888) and [Two](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15799014) also posted in this AO3 series.

Rey releases his hand when they reach her room. The bed is in the center, pushed up against the far wall, and she immediately makes for it, shedding her sweater as she goes. Her back to Ben, she unbuttons the shirt beneath it next, watching out the window as waves lap the shore, and when she’s dropped that to the floor she removes her twill trousers as well. She isn’t necessarily in a hurry to be out of her clothes, but she wants to make her intentions perfectly clear. Besides, given his activities outside, he evidently has no qualms about nudity. 

Stripped to her bra and panties, she turns to face him, expecting to find he’s been following suit. Instead, he’s watching her with the strangest look of admiring fascination, and something about it only makes her more eager to have him. He said some selkies take human lovers; she assumed he was including himself in that. But now she has to wonder if he never has until tonight. 

She’s getting ahead of herself—they’re not quite lovers yet. Soon, though . . . 

She thinks she should say something, but they’ve talked a lot already. And what would she say? That it’s been a lovely few hours chatting on her sofa, but she wants him to fuck her now? If that hasn’t been made abundantly clear at this point, then one or both of them is about to be very embarrassed.

Ben finally moves further into the room, pauses near the foot of the bed and takes off his sweater, and as he steps out of his pants her underthings join them on the floor. She’s _seen_ him like this before, been with him, but never outside her dreams. Not in flesh and blood. She lets herself look this time, studies the way shadows and moonlight seem to glove him, the way he looks almost unreal even now; his eyes flicking over her, chest rising and falling, cock still stiffening, fingers twitching, desperate to touch. There’s a trickle of anticipation down her spine, a slow, insistent bloom of heat in her groin, and it’s more than the air in the room that makes her shiver.

He approaches her and places a hand at her waist to trace the slight curve of her hip, like he’s about to take her hand and lead her in a dance. The other brushes over her shoulder, down her arm. His face is so close to hers, she can smell the sea in his hair and count the freckles on his cheek. It's tempting to kiss him now, but instead she lets him continue to touch her, and she takes in how he feels. 

His hands are large, softer than she expected as he explores— _all_ of his skin is softer than she expected, smooth like the stones that wash up on shore. The tips of his fingers glance over her jaw and throat, the stark bow of her clavicle; fondle at her breasts in slow deliberate strokes, first at the soft skin beneath, then thumbing over her nipples, erect and sensitive and sending another burst of flickering warmth straight to her cunt; his knuckles skip across her ribs, his palm passes over her belly, thumb dragging to circle her navel.

He’s hard when he reaches her mound, when he slips a hand between her legs, and Rey leans into him and grasps his shoulders to pull herself up, tips her head back and presses her lips to his, a sigh catching at the back of her throat. If he’s never kissed anyone before (she will still flatter herself to think she could well be his first) she can’t tell it. Ben isn’t shy; he’s curious. He likes to see what she does when he fingers her, when he kisses her. She tightens her thighs around his hand, keeps him there, urges him to press inside her, first one finger, then another. She’s wet enough; more than enough. He could take her right now, standing, if he wanted. He wouldn’t even need the wall.

They make it to the bed, though, and he doesn’t rush exactly, but he doesn’t take it slow either. He’s as impatient as she is, that odd inhuman calm he affected before utterly gone, another skin he can simply shed. She’s half prepared for him to turn her around or flip her over and fuck her like an animal or something, rutting rough and frantic. She sort of wants him to. 

But it’s not what happens. They’re face to face the whole time, and neither of them utters a word, and neither of them has to. It’s the strangest thing. Rey thinks—she knows—she could tell him what she wants. What it is that feels best about his touch or the rhythm and angle of his hips, or how much she loves the sensation of his heavy body over hers and his cock sliding snug against her cunt, or the way he almost growls when she brings her mouth to the thick slope of his shoulder and bites down. But she doesn’t, because he just seems to _know_ the moment she forms the thought. 

And she knows, too. She knows that his desire for her is far more than just physical. She knows that hers is in return. She knows there is something else happening here. In his embrace she is buoyant and weightless; she feels like air, like nothing at all, like everything at once.

Afterward they clean up as best they can and return to bed. Ben spoons up behind her, combs her hair aside with his long fingers, and rests his face against the back of her shoulder. His breath comes in warm puffs, and she feels his eyelashes whisper twice against her skin before he shuts his eyes. They still haven't spoken, not even as they stood together in her small bathroom, wiping traces of each other from their bodies and stealing a few last kisses and tastes. 

She thinks about what it means to share her bed and body tonight with this beautiful, unlikely being from her dreams—perhaps nothing. But it seems to mean something. She doesn't know what it is yet, and when she falls asleep minutes later she still hasn't decided.

She wakes the next morning to her skin prickling, the hairs at the back of her neck rising. The light in the window is golden and teases a warmth outside she knows is false, and the room is chilled and blue, her bed empty but for her. Rey sinks under the blanket and scrubs the goosebumps from her body. She assumes he has gone already; it seems fitting. Eyes closed, she can imagine him slipping away as dawn arrived, reclaiming his seal skin and his true form, disappearing into the surf. 

Last night feels as much like a dream as any other time she has seen him, though physical evidence proves otherwise. Her clothing is strewn across the floor; she’s naked; the sheets will need to be changed. She remembers letting him finish inside her, and the tacky traces of his spend on her thighs, and makes a note to stop at the herbalist.

Her dreams were different last night. This time she dreamed of flying, feather-boned and fleet, skimming the waves with broad white wings.

She rises and finds a clean pair of leggings and a warm flannel shirt, dresses and makes her way to the kitchen for breakfast. She’d like a shower, but she’s too hungry, and it can wait. Yet as she passes through the living room, she sees him. Ben is standing in a corner: still human, still ordinary to the eye, inspecting her bookshelf. 

“Thinking of stealing anything?” she quips.

He looks at her seriously. His hair is damp. She thinks he must have gone to the water after all, then dressed and come back. “No.”

“I'm joking.” Rey enters the kitchen and puts a kettle on. He joins her as she waits and leans on the counter. She gestures at the two cups she left by the sink hours before. “I'd offer you more tea, but you didn't seem to like it much last night.”

“I’ll pass on the tea. Some food might be nice,” he tells her, eyes scanning the room. He speaks like this isn’t the first time they’ve done this. “Or . . . coffee?”

“You’re right, it would. I’m afraid today was slated as shopping day, though. I’ll need to make a trip to town—market’ll be open soon. You can come, if you don’t mind the drive.” 

She doesn’t know why she invited him. Most likely, he has to get back to wherever it is he disappeared to last time. Strangely, it never seems to be the sea. He’s always leaving it behind. The realization makes her sad for him, and it occurs to her that she must always have known this—there’s only one reason a selkie would spend this much time on land. Has his skin been stolen?

“Or I could just go down to the water and swallow up a few fat fish,” he says as his even, serious gaze drifts to the kitchen window that looks out on the sea.

Rey’s eyebrows scrunch together and she stares over her shoulder at him with a look of bemusement. 

“I’m joking.” He echoes her words and flippant tone of a few minutes before, and he smiles—not the dry, unfitting curves of his mouth she remembers from last night, but a wide open grin that sparks in his eyes. She likes it very much. “The coffee out there is shit. I’ll come with you. I’d like that.”

She chuckles and nods as if she agrees that yes, ocean coffee is shit. She wishes the water in the kettle would hurry up and boil. Suddenly it feels as if this day holds much promise. So many things could happen. She wants to start the work of finding out what they are, and where they may lead.


End file.
